


Suffering in Silence

by SucculentStrawberries



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Desperation, Drabble, Embarrassment, Gen, Humiliation, Minor Spoilers, Omorashi, One Shot, POV Female Character, Public Humiliation, Spoilers, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 18:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SucculentStrawberries/pseuds/SucculentStrawberries
Summary: When you refuse to beg, when your single plea is rejected, there is only one option left: Suffer in silence.





	Suffering in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally finished the first DR series a while ago (anime, I'm still watching a playthrough of the game) and I really like Kirigiri (and also a lot of the others but she's the one I was most interested in writing for).
> 
> I had an idea for this situation that I couldn't get out of my head but I didn't have the energy to write a full fic of it in my usual style. So have this experimental piece I wrote while I was sick this past week! I like the writing style but I'm not sure how appealing it is kink-wise since usually omo fics are about wanting to see them whine and groan and cry and Kirigiri just isn't someone I can see doing that. Then again, there's something to be said for suffering in silence.
> 
> Since I don't know how clear the plot is: This takes place (vaguely) at some point after Genocide Jill has been revealed. Celeste hasn't been offed yet. But also it incorporates some of what Byakuya did later on where he got suspicious of her ditching them all the time. Whether they're investigating a murder scene, a new floor or just snooping for hints about the Mastermind is up to you, because I didn't bother to specify (like I said, not a full fic, just a drabble).

They've been investigating this area for far too long, clustered together in a single mass as they move from one portion to the next. The pace is tedious, and while they are organized, not all of them are focused. She is unable to focus, and there are several potential clues that she's sure she's missed, things that would have sped this journey along if she could only bring her attention towards _anything_ outside of herself. Instead, she's lagging in the middle of the group, watching and touching only the bare minimum to give off _the illusion_ of assisting.   
  
The ghostly memory of the tea at breakfast haunts her, as does the taunting glint of her room key as it sways from their leader's hip, carefully held hostage. The one time she'd voiced an actual motive for leaving the room for a few minutes, and he'd protested in front of everyone, claiming it was a farce, refusing to let her step out on her own. What right did he have to dictate whether she remained with the group, when he himself had spent so much time away from them, skipping meetings and playing the loner?   
  
He was a hypocrite of the highest order, but a few of their peers had become suspicious of her recent activities as well, and there had been no other option but to concede to his demands for the day. Begging was not in her nature, and repeating her original motive for escape would only be met with more arguing and distrust. Remaining here, working alongside them in plain sight, would prove she was a team player. It would only be another hour or two at worst. She would be fine.  
  
She's fine.  
  
She's still managing to keep her legs apart, but that doesn't stop them from trembling ceaselessly, sending shudders up her limbs with every ginger step. The quivering only seems to be aggravating those _oh so sensitive_ muscles, and she has to focus in order to ensure her breaths are still coming out evenly, despite her body's increasing desire to pant like some sort of animal. She will not stoop to such a level, not when the others are still here with her, not when _he_ is still with her.   
  
She can feel his gaze boring into her, scrutinizing every movement, every abnormal behavioral trait, and though he does not speak, she can practically _hear_ the echoing chorus of _'Are you okay'_ s and _'What's wrong'_ s. Her tongue is begging her to simply give in and tell him in a rush of breathless whispers, to spill those carefully guarded secrets so that, just for once, she isn't left to fight her battles alone. Perhaps he could help her, like he had so many times during those trials.   
  
_No._ No, he cannot assist her with this, and this isn't a side she wants to show him. He would only trust her if he knew that she was strong, capable, able to perform her tasks without incident. If he started to worry, he'd never let her go off on her own in the coming days, wouldn't let her do what had to be done despite the risks. She was going to get through this, and then she would prove-  
  
A crashing tidal wave, so strong that she can't help the nervous hitch in her breath, can't help the way her knees locked together for a split second and interrupted her steps. She manages to pull them back apart just as quickly and keeps walking, but that doesn't stop the endless throbbing, _pulsing_ pain between her legs, the shivering of exhausted muscles in such an intimate place that were absolutely _screaming_ for her to let go. Let go, let go, oh she absolutely _had_ to, she _needed_ to, it had never been more urgent in her life-  
  
A squirt of heat, trickling out despite her most determined efforts, slowly soaking the garments under her tights. It was so warm, so _teasing,_ and it sends her heart hammering twice as fast, until she can barely find the energy to breathe with every scrap of her attention focused on trying to fight. She can't walk, she can't _move._ She's managed to stop it, but she can feel it running back down to push against the entrance again already, can feel it aching so strongly that it's all she can do to not groan or reach down to cup herself. But neither of those actions would be useful anymore. No, she'd long passed the threshold for such assistance, and there's only one course of action left.  
  
One course of action that, while not ideal, is far more desirable than the alternative.  
  
The heat is already leaking between her legs again in uneven trickles, helped along by increasingly sharp throbs and pulses as she forces her body to break out of its nervous stasis. She doesn't waste a moment turning on her heel to face the long hallway, the entire focus of her quickening strides resting on reaching the end and ducking around the corner. Just break the line of sight and minimize the damage, that was the only objective-  
  
A vicegrip on her shoulder, jerking down to clench around her arm without any warning, sending her heart beating at twice the pace it had already been going. A flash of panic, fear, the unknown, it's enough to make her lightheaded for a second, a momentary lapse in concentration. What-no, _who_ grabbed her? _Why?_ She can take care of herself, she knows that, and any other time she would already be spinning around, fighting back against her assailant. Instead she can only writhe and squirm, tugging in vain against the fingers that are clenching too tightly for her to simply slip out of her coat. The entire time she's struggling to make sense of this fresh development, her body is still screaming, _pleading_ to open the floodgates, intermittent drizzles running down her tights while her body shudders.   
  
_"Where do you think you're going?"_  
  
The first spoken words she's able to tune into, make sense of, and they're a cold growl, breaking through her thoughts and scattering them like a bullet shattering glass. The glare of lenses is what greets her as she finally manages to turn and face her captor, so much stronger than she'd expected. That was one of her other mistakes. Underestimating her classmates.   
  
"Let go of me." She means it as a command, the same calm, self-assured order she's had so much practice giving around here. It comes out as a whisper instead, choked out in a single gasp of breath as she tries to move again in a last, rushing tug. She no longer has the mental capacity for words to explain her desires, her _reasons_ further. The hand bruising her flesh holds fast, squeezing harder in the same moment that her own muscles spasm and squeeze something else. That tidal wave again, but swelling more intensely than before, rising into agonizing urgency that she can't-  
  
She can't fight it. She can't do anything but stand there on trembling legs as the dam gives out, a torrent of warm liquid rushing to hiss through undergarments, against her skirt and splattering down to caress her thighs. The sound of rain on tile is echoing around the entire hallway, a growing puddle soaking her shoes. She's breathing in soft, uneven huffs, and all she can do is stare at the man who was the catalyst for all of this, the man whose eyebrows are quirked in the slightest hint of bemusement. He doesn't release her, maintaining eye contact even while her face burns and her dripping legs quiver in their attempt to keep holding her weight. She is simultaneously alone in this horrific action, witnessing every sensation wracking her body and every tired thought rushing through her head, and on display to an entire crowd, her fellow classmates and her captor standing around with their eyes locked onto her, watching in silence.    
  
If she were prone to hyperbole, she might describe it as being akin to Monokuma's torturous punishments, putting on a life-ending performance for the entire class.   
  
This is nowhere near that level. She is struggling to remain upright as exhaustion nags at her, clasping one hand onto the arm holding her under the guise of trying to pull his hand away. The liquid escaping her is finally slowing into drips, and she swallows, waiting for it to cease entirely before she finally steps out of the relinquishing hand's grip. A few whispers are making their way around her now, some directed towards each other, and a handful towards her. She pays them no heed, forcing firmness back into her gaze as she locks eyes with her rival. With that distraction out of the way, she can regain her composure, even if she has yet to find words that are appropriate for this scenario. She can glare at him for a long moment, and then turn down the hallway she'd failed to reach, where she would then walk to a new destination.  
  
A single step, a second, and the hand was on her again, clenching even more tightly than before as a scoff hissed into her ear.  
_  
"Did you honestly think this would be a reasonable excuse for you to leave? That humiliating yourself would let you off the hook?"_  
  
A few protests from the voices of those who had the most outspoken personalities or moral compasses among them. The swimmer and the fortune teller, snapping and sighing in exasperation and disappointment. The gambler, calmly voicing the potential flaws in his reasons for detaining her. The serial killer, predictably, was on his side, shouting down their peers with a cackle and several insults.  
  
She was starting to shiver, although whether that was more from the chilling of her wet clothing or from the tiredness she was currently fighting remained to be discerned. A new voice broke into the argument, and as a body carefully stepped in to separate her from their opponent, she found herself even _more_ inclined to remain silent. What could she possibly say to the boy who had now seen her like this, the very same boy that she had been trying so hard to protect and inspire up until this point? The boy who was now defending her even against a man so much taller and more intimidating, who had successfully silenced the others.  
  
His warm hand is holding her own as he leads her out of the hallway, murmuring sympathies and questions that she doesn't hear, purposefully blocks out. She's slow and unsteady, pausing every few hallways to lean up against the wall, running a free hand through her hair. He doesn't push, he simply waits, keeping his gaze off of her as often as he can unless he needs to help direct her. By the time they've reached her dorm he's stopped speaking entirely, giving up on any apologies or stories of his own similar failures. She wants to be alone, and as soon as he shoves the key into the lock he grants that wish, ducking his head one last time before he leaves her to her own cleanup.   
  
She is alone, shivering in her own urine and reeking of failure, but she doesn't cry. She breathes, slowly, in and out. There is too much at stake to get hung up on this, on something as small and petty as human emotion. She must clean up, recover, and prepare for their upcoming mission. They don't have time left to waste.   
  
Perhaps, actually, human emotion can be its own strength. She may not understand it entirely, but there are a few obvious answers. She now has a new motive for standing against her rival, to be more determined than before in accomplishing her own tasks despite his protests.   
  
There is also the vaguer, but more powerful strength.  
  
Hope. The very hope that tried to encourage her, even now, who saw the best in others even when they were struggling. The one who might be able to break through the cold, cynical nature of the one she was still butting heads with.   
  
Her hope. Perhaps it would have been beneficial to cling to him earlier after all. If she had shown him the same trust he had her, confided in him when she was in trouble...things might have turned out differently back there.   
  
Well, there's no changing the past. There is only preparation for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes there were tiny hints of her/Naegi in this because I think they're really cute. Also I know technically she doesn't wear tights that go all the way up her legs but her outfit would look better if she did so I'm taking liberties
> 
> Also Kirigiri is definitely more upset about this than she lets on but hey, compared to your potential death you can't really complain about minor embarrassing situations.
> 
> Byakuya is an asshole with no redeeming qualities I'm sorry that's just accurate characterization


End file.
